


Because I Said So

by dessert_first



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Fake siblings, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessert_first/pseuds/dessert_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frannie knows best. Just get used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Said So

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HYPERFocused](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/gifts).



> Happy holidays, HYPERfocused, I really hope you enjoy your gift!

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray." Frannie's been chanting his name all the way across the bullpen, until she comes to stand in front of Ray's desk, arms crossed. "We gotta talk."  
   
"Fraser's not here," Ray says, with only the barest glance up from paperwork. Might as well save her the heartache of finding out on her own.  
   
"Yeah, I know," Frannie states. "That's what we gotta talk about. C'mon." 

She takes Ray's arm and tugs him along after her, casing the hall before she leads him out. Bemused, he follows along. She takes him to the break room, peeks in at Huey and Dewey arguing over who emptied out the coffeepot again without refilling it, tugs Ray down the hall towards Interview Two, backs out again when she sees Welsh and Stella there arguing over a perp being questioned in Interview One, and finally pulls Ray into the supply closet. She shuts the door and darkness descends.  
   
"Uh, Frannie?" Ray asks. "Are you trying to tell me something here?" Cautiously, he gropes for the light switch, inadvertedly grasping a handful of something warm and soft.  
   
"Hey!" Frannie cries. "Watch the goods, pal!"  
   
She smacks his hand and tugs on the overhead light.  
   
Ray blinks, dazed.  
   
"Like I said," Frannie looks up at him, her face limned by the bare bulb up on the ceiling. "We gotta talk."  
   
::  
   
"How long have you been back from your adventure, Ray?" Frannie asks.  
   
"Uh, it's been about--"  
   
"Six weeks. Six weeks, two days and three hours, Ray. And where is Fraser?"  
   
"He, uh, he went out to--"  
   
"Lunch!" Frannie cries triumphantly. "Fraser went out to lunch, Ray."  
   
Ray frowns. "What, you think Canadians don't eat?"  
   
Frannie rolls her eyes. "Did _you_ go out to lunch, Ray?"  
   
"Nah, I got a sandwich, I was gonna catch up on that paperwork before Welsh skins me alive, and I still don't--"  
   
"Aha!" Frannie pounces. She reminds Ray a little of Stella on the stand, only completely different. "And who did Fraser go out to lunch with?"  
   
Ray thinks it over. "That, uh, that guy, that new guy, whathisname, Curtis?"  
   
"Yes!" Frannie beams at him. "Fraser went out to lunch with Curtis. Without you, without Dief, without anyone else, just like he's been doing every day for the past three of the six weeks you guys've been back. You gettin' me, Ray?"  
   
Ray shifts guiltily. "I've been catching up from vacation, Frannie, I don't always got time to be going out to lunch with people. I'll, you know, I'll apologize to Fraser for not being there lately, okay?" He stares longingly at the supply closet door. Frannie's perfume is soft and flowery and nice, and he thinks it's starting to go to his head in the close quarters.  
   
"Oh, _Ray_ ," Frannie shakes her head pityingly. "I was married before, you know. Maybe it didn't work out so well, but believe me, I know how you get from point A to point Marriage, okay? Daily romantic lunches? _Hello?_ "  
   
Ray frowns. "What are you saying, Fraser's gonna marry Curtis?"  
   
Frannie shakes her head and opens her mouth, but her words are interrupted by Huey opening the door. "What?" She glares up at him, hands on her hips. "We're kinda busy here."  
   
Huey's eyebrows nearly collide with his hairline. "I ran out of staples," he says slowly, eyes darting between Ray and Frannie. "I heard this is where the kids are keeping them these days."  
   
Frannie grabs a box from the shelf behind Ray without even looking, pressing her soft breasts up against his body for a split second as she reaches around him. 

"Look, Ray, I have put a lot of time into this relationship," she says, shoving the box at Huey and shutting the door in his openly curious face. "And if I am not going to get to be in it--"

"What--"

"--if someone else is going to swim along and just, just get to _have_ Fraser and it isn't me... well, it sure isn't going to some new guy, okay, no matter how freakishly good looking he is. It's gotta be you."  
   
 _"Me?"_  
    
"You're practically my brother, Ray. If my _other_ brother Ray wasn't deliriously happy shacked up in Florida with your ex-wife, I'd try to make him give it a shot, but as it is, you're the only current or former Vecchio with a, uh..." Frannie gestures vaguely in the direction of Ray's crotch, "sword of desire around here, and I really think that's what Fraser's looking for."  
   
"A current or former Vecchio?"  
   
"A _sword_ of _desire_ , Ray," Frannie rolls her eyes. "Try to keep up."  
   
::  
   
"So it's placed," Frannie says, sidling up to Ray as he's finishing up Report #207 for Welsh. Extra-crossed T's, double-dotted I's, the works.  
   
"Don't you mean it's set?"  
   
"Placed, set, tossed. Who cares? I asked Curtis to stay after work and help me sort through some case files."  
   
"Yeah?" Ray squints at the computer monitor. They should really make the text bigger on these things.  
   
"So this is your big chance," Frannie says impatiently. "To woo Fraser!"  
   
"Uh, 'woo'? Who woos these days?"  
   
"It doesn't matter who woos, it only matters that _you_ woo. Take Fraser out to dinner; someplace nice."  
   
Ray looks at her like she's gone nuts, which, hey. There's a thought. "I can't take him out someplace fancy, Frannie, he'll think I'm about to tell him I've got some horrible disease or I have to move to Minsk or something. We never go anyplace fancy."  
   
"I can't take care of everything, Ray! Just figure something out!" Frannie makes shooing gestures at Ray and walks away, her laserlike focus already fixed on poor unsuspecting Curtis.  
   
::  
   
"Happy... being back from Canada for six weeks day, Fraser," Ray says lamely, gesturing around the crowded restaurant.  
   
"Thank you, Ray!" Fraser actually looks touched. Jeez, the guy really needs to get out more.  
   
"I know I've been really busy at work lately."  
   
"Of course, Ray," Fraser says mildly. "I understand completely. And Detective Curtis has been very kind."  
   
"Oh, yeah," Ray says, really going for the nonchalance gold. "You've been hanging out a lot with him lately, huh? So, uh..."

Fraser just looks at him attentively, like Ray's next words are sure to be absolutely fucking fascinating, and well, they're really not, is the truth, whatever the hell they turn out to be. Ray casts around for a topic.

"So, you, uh, you really think Isabella Rosellini is hiding something about the Gilbert murder?"  
   
Frannie should have given him a script, or a list of conversational topics, or some clue what on earth he's supposed to be doing here. Ray carefully ignores the larger question of why he agreed to be here, doing whatever he's meant to be doing, in the first place. 

Hey, why borrow trouble?  
   
::  
   
He is in so much trouble.

"You are falling down on the job here, Ray!" Frannie exclaims the next morning, once she's dragged Ray back to the supply closet and demanded a full report of Operation Take Fraser Out To Dinner. "I ask you to do one thing, _one little thing_ , for me, and you _didn't_ and now Fraser's gonna end up with someone who isn't even Italian!"  
   
" _I'm_ not Italian," Ray feels obligated to point out.  
   
"Close enough," Frannie says grimly.  
   
Frannie's a real nice girl, but Ray is really starting to worry about her.  
   
"I can't believe you wasted a perfectly good dinner date talking _work_ ," she grouses.  
   
"Fraser had some good ideas about the Gilbert case!"  
   
Frannie throws her hands up and angrily mutters something in Italian.  
   
"Okay." She takes a deep breath, whispers the word _yellow_ a few times, and looks at Ray. "Just to be clear. I am supporting you in this. I am on your side. I want you to go and, and sweep Fraser off his feet and run away with him, and make an honest man out of him, and live in a perfect little house with a white picket fence and Dief and at least two kids, little Benton Junior and Francesca Isabella, and a yard big enough for family get-togethers and a little swing set and a treehouse for when the kids are older, and--"  
   
"Uh, Frannie?" Ray gets the feeling they're not so much talking about him anymore.  
   
She blinks. "But if Fraser suddenly becomes interested in women, all bets are off."  
   
"When did Fraser _stop_ being interested in women?"  
   
"Oh, please," Frannie says, and walks out of the closet.  
   
Ray really, really doesn't understand how he got into this in the first place, but he's pretty sure he's in over his head.  
   
::

Apparently, Ray is too hopeless to be trusted to deal with this on his own anymore. Frannie has invited Fraser and Ray over to the Vecchio house for dinner, and is doggedly taking over the conversational reins, speaking over her mother, Tony, Maria and the kids without missing a beat.

"So, Frase," she says sweetly, piling more of Mrs. Vecchio's polenta onto his plate, "where do you see yourself in five years?"

Fraser coughs. "Five years?"

"Yeah, you know. Give or take. I mean, by then you'd like to have a _special someone,_ right? Maybe settle down?"

"Well, I couldn't really say—"

"Maybe even with someone you _already know_?" she hints broadly. Under the table, she kicks Ray's shin with her dainty little high-heeled shoe.

"Hey!" Ray glares at her.

"Maybe a _coworker_?" Frannie blithely ignores him. "I mean, you never know where love's wayward seed will bloom, do you?"

Tony and Maria's kids are giggling.

"Oh, my, would you look at the time!" Fraser says loudly. "Diefenbaker and I really must take our leave."

"But you haven't even had dessert yet!" Mrs. Vecchio says, dismayed. "I made cannoli!"

"That sounds wonderful, ma'am," Fraser says, and if he were wearing his hat, Ray knows he'd be tipping it. "Perhaps another time?"

He makes a swift exit, Dief protesting the whole way, and Ray is stuck at a dinner table full of disappointed Vecchios. They turn their gazes on him as one.

"Uh, Frase?" he calls. "I should really go give him and Dief a ride back to the Consulate. It's been fantastic, Mrs. Vecchio. The food was a, uh, revelation. Thanks so much!"

He backs out swiftly, narrowly escaping Mrs. Vecchio's practiced look of motherly reproach, and catches up with Fraser just down the block. He slows down the GTO, nearing the curb.

"That is not buddies, Fraser," he says, sticking his head out the window as he drives.

Fraser turns to look at him, amused. "Surely you can handle one family dinner, Ray?"

" _You_ couldn't," Ray points out. "C'mon, hop in. We'll get some tea or something to wash down the meal, okay?"

Dief immediately perks his ears up and puts his paws up on Ray's open window.

"You're not gonna disappoint your wolf, are you?" Ray grins.

"That would not be buddies," Fraser says gravely, and walks around to the passenger side door, Diefenbaker eagerly following at his heels.

::

"I know what's wrong," Frannie announces as soon as Ray walks into the bullpen on Monday.

"So you'll be getting therapy?" he mutters under his breath, bypassing her on his way to his desk.

"What?" Frannie narrows her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Shyeah." She puts her hands on her hips, and Ray can't help watching the sweet curve of them under her fingers. "I'm doing this for _you_ , you know. You could be a little more helpful."

"Frannie, I do not know why you think you're doing this, but it ain't for me. It's for you and Benton Junior and little Francesca Gabriella."

" _Isabella_ ," Frannie says. "It's Francesca _Isabella_. I always—"

"Frannie," Ray says gently. He puts his hands on her shoulders and smiles down at her. "You don’t need me and Fraser for that. Save the name for your own kid, okay? When it happens, _I'm_ gonna be the one begging to babysit for _you_."

She looks down for a minute, blinking rapidly, then rallies and raises her chin. "Well, I don't know about that. You qualified to babysit?"

"I make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich," he says, "and I always remember to cut the crusts off."

"Don't let her con you into giving her extra cookies," Frannie warns, but she's smiling.

"Not unless they're oatmeal cookies," Ray nods seriously. "Oatmeal's healthy."

"Okay," Frannie says. "Maybe _one_ extra cookie if it's oatmeal."

They shake on it, and Ray can't help pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets her go. Hey, if he can't kiss his fake baby sister on the forehead, who can he kiss?

When he looks up, Fraser is across the bullpen staring at them strangely.

::

Edgar Allen Gandolfini and his goons seem to have gotten tipped off that Fraser and Ray were coming for them, and Fraser does one of his completely nut job stunts to catch them just before their private plane to Nicaragua takes off.

He doesn't say anything about it, but Ray can tell he's really screwed up his back, and probably other stuff as well. 

Once the perps are safely in lockup and the paperwork is on its way to being sorted out, Ray insists on driving Fraser back to the Consulate. He preps the tub for Fraser with Epsom salts and some stinky herbs Fraser wants, then helps Fraser undress and step into the hot bath. 

Once he's in, Fraser lets out a deep sigh, and Ray allows him a moment of much-needed relaxation, fetching a washcloth and soaping it for him. 

"Frase," Ray says slowly and calmly as his friend soaks in the water, passing the soapy cloth gently across his broad, winter-pale shoulders. 

"Yes, Ray?"

"Do not ever, under any circumstances, do _anything_ like that again, okay?" He leans closer, and Fraser leans attentively forward, seeming mesmerized by Ray's soft tone, "Or I will personally _beat the crap out of you_ as soon as I'm over my heart attack."

"Ah," Fraser blinks rapidly, as if suddenly waking up. "So noted, Ray," he says quietly, sinking deeper into the tub with a slight wince.

"Seriously, buddy," Ray leans over the edge of the tub and grabs the back of Fraser's neck. "I couldn't take it if something happened to you. I need you around, okay?"

"Okay, Ray," Fraser says, and looks at Ray for a long moment, flushed and damp from the bath, then leans back and closes his eyes.

::

"Ray!" Frannie calls out as soon as Ray hits the break room. "You got a sec?"

It's not really a question, Ray thinks, because she's already got him by the elbow and is herding him down the hall, away from where Curtis, Chang and Delano are arguing about last night's game. They stop over at Interview One, but Huey and Dewey are questioning Tiny Biggins about the Pop Tart murders, so they head into Interview Two but back out before Welsh can call Ray in on the license plate decoder ring case, swing by the busy bullpen, then zip right on into the supply closet.

Again.

Ray keeps his hands to himself and lets Frannie get the light on her own this time.

"I remembered what I was gonna tell you," she says.

"You what?" Ray should really have long ago given up on hoping to follow along with Frannie's conversations, but he must be one of those cock-eyed optimists.

"Before the oatmeal cookies," Frannie rolls her eyes. "Tell me you're a better detective than this out in the real world, Kowalski."

"I am starting to question that," Ray says.

"You know what all those romance novels have in common?" Frannie asks, but it must be rhetawhatsis because she steamrolls on without waiting for an answer. "You need a sweeping declaration."

"Great," Ray says, and grabs the doorknob. "I'll get right on that."

Frannie puts her little hand on his before he can open the door. "Seriously, Ray. For _you._ I'll take care of Francesca Gabriella."

" _Isabella_ ," Ray corrects. 

"I changed it."

Ray smiles before he can help it.

"Sometimes things don't work out the way you thought they would," Frannie says. "But that doesn't mean you can't adapt. And _you_ need to adapt, Ray Kowalski. You need to adapt your butt right on over to Fraser and start the rest of your lives together, because, no offense, but you're not getting any younger, and Curtis just might be. Seriously, I think he's been hitting the spa these days. His skin looks fantastic."

"Uh, thanks, Frannie," Ray says.

::

It's a hell of a workday, and it just seems longer with Fraser stuck at home because of his back, but Ray gets through it. He stops by the Consulate at noon to bring Fraser some lunch and check up on him, and Fraser just waves away Ray's concerns, but accepts the soup and sandwich with a smile.

Ray hadn't realized how much he'd missed taking care of someone.

When he finally finishes up at work, he drives right back to the Consulate. Turnbull and Thatcher have gone home for the day, so he lets himself in with his credit card. Fraser hasn’t told him to quit doing that yet, so Ray figures that's kind of like being given his own key if Fraser lived in an apartment like a normal person. At least, Fraser has a key to Ray's place, so. The credit card's close enough.

Dief leaps up to greet Ray as soon as the door is open, then heads out with a wolfy grin. 

Ray locks up and heads down the hall. "Frase?"

"In here, Ray," Fraser calls, accompanied by a splash. He's in the bathroom, soaking again.

"Hey, Frase." Ray lingers in the open doorway. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better, Ray, thank you kindly."

"Did you eat good? Was the food okay?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, Ray. Detective Curtis brought over some delicious homemade stew with turmeric, which as you know, has powerful anti-inflammatory properties to help with my—"

"Oh," Ray says. "That's cool. That's nice. I, uh, I just wanted to check up on you, you know, but I guess you're set, huh? You look, you look good. Not like naked in a bath good, just better from your injury good, that's the--you know what, I should just--" He jerks a thumb towards the door, awkwardly, and gets out of Fraser's hair as fast as humanly possible, ignoring Dief's reproachful whine as he passes him on the way out the door.

Of course Fraser already has people taking care of him, it's not like he needs Ray for that. He's probably got people lined up around the block to bring him homemade whatsis stew and baked goods and bath salts with smelly herbs.

Which is great, because that is exactly what Fraser deserves, and Ray should suck it up and be happy for him.

Ray is definitely, absolutely, totally happy for him.

::

"Ray," Frannie says. "Ray, it's... it's bad. I'm not gonna lie to you."

"Frannie," Ray sighs as he bites into his sandwich. The break room is empty and all he really wanted was to enjoy his lunch in peace for ten minutes.

"It's about Curtis," Frannie says.

Of course it is. Ray just sighs and gets up, heading directly for the supply closet. He takes the sandwich, though.

Once they're inside, lightbulb on, Frannie turns to him seriously. "You know how I asked Curtis to help me with those case files, so you could take Fraser out and sweep him off his feet--which you completely bombed, by the way, I don't even know how it's possible that we are related--"

"Frannie, you do know we're not actually--"

"But the thing is, he offered to help me out some more if I needed, and I figured it couldn't hurt to keep him tied up and away from Fraser, you know, so you can keep on romancing his stone, and that's when I found out."

Ray frowns. "Found out what?"

"I knew he was tough competition Ray, that's why we needed to work as a team here, okay, but he isn't tough competition."

"He's not?"

"Ray. We can't--there _is_ no competition with Curtis," Frannie says.

"When did we _start_ competing with Curtis?" Ray frowns.

"Ray!" Frannie throws up her hands. "This is not that complicated! Try to move this plot along, okay? I am dragging this cart up a hill by myself here. Pay. Attention."

"Okay, okay, Frannie, jeez." Ray sets the sandwich down on the nearest shelf and crosses his arms. "I'm paying attention."

"Curtis," Frannie leans forward, "is smart, educated, funny, polite, devastatingly handsome--"

"Devastatingly?" Ray raises an eyebrow, but Frannie just barrels on.

"How can we compete with that? I mean, we're okay, don't get me wrong, we are a _catch_ , Ray, but Curtis is a whole other level of catch, he is, he is the Moby Dick of catches--

"Uh, Frannie, Moby Dick is--"

"And we are just not ready for this, Ray, we are not _equipped._ " 

"What exactly did he say to you, Frannie, what he's secretly Batman or something?"

"He..." Frannie looks away. "He _cooked_ for me, Ray."

"Oh." Ray blinks. "Okay. How was it?"

"Delicious!" Frannie wails. "His gnocchi are as good as my mother's, God rest her soul--"

"Your mother is alive, Frannie," Ray reasons.

"She won't be for long if she ever tastes those gnocchi," Frannie proclaims. "She would die, she would just _die_ , Ray, they were fluffy as _clouds_ and they just melted in your mouth, oh!"

"Frannie?" Ray asks, dismayed. "Frannie, are you _crying_?"

"Like _clouds_ , Ray," she sobs. "And all you and I know how to make is _takeout_."

"I, uh, I know how to make some Polish stuff," Ray offers, awkwardly patting her back, but that just makes her sob louder.

::

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray." Fraser says, walking up to Ray's desk. "I'd, ah. I'd very much like a chance to speak with you."

"Fraser, you're back!" Ray says, looking up from the mass of case files that have somehow taken over his desk. "That is greatness. What's up?"

"Perhaps somewhere a bit more private?" Fraser asks.

Ray smiles. "I know just the place," he says.

He almost feels nostalgic as he drags Fraser down the hall, into the supply closet and pulls the door shut behind them, reaching up to turn on the light. 

"Voilà, privacy! What's up, Benton-buddy?" Ray looks at Fraser expectantly.

But Fraser just stands there in his uniform, everything looking shined and polished and untouchable as always. "Well, Ray, it's ah, it's recently been brought to my attention..."

"Yeah," Ray encourages him.

"That, well, this may be, I may be..."

"Yeah?" Ray leans a little closer.

"Well, Curtis feels that--"

"Wait," Ray says. "You brought me in here to talk about Curtis? I mean, hey, you brought me in here to talk about Curtis! That's great!"

"It is?" Fraser frowns.

"Well sure, you know, whatever floats your boat, butters your muffins, turns your crank, I mean, I know he's a catch, believe me, that has been brought to my attention."

"Ray," Fraser says. "I didn't come here to talk about Curtis."

"Then why were you talking about Curtis?"

"I wasn't--" Fraser seems to gather himself, taking a deep breath. "Ray. I simply meant to say that it has been pointed out to me..."

The "by Curtis" remains unsaid, Ray notices.

"...that perhaps, when it comes to certain, ah, emotions, it might be best for me to simply _express_ what it is I am feeling. Have been feeling, actually, for a very long time now."

"What kind of feelings?"

"Romantic," Fraser says, nervously thumbing his eyebrow. "Feelings."

"You sure this isn't about Curtis?" Ray frowns.

"Ray, please!" Fraser says. "Can we just remove all mention of Delroy Curtis from this conversation? I am trying to say that I may have romantic feelings for _you_."

"What?" Ray says blankly.

::

Fraser finds him a nice sturdy box of paper and Ray sits on it heavily.

"This isn't new, is it?" Ray asks.

"No, Ray."

"It's been going on for a while, huh?"

"It has been some time," Fraser admits. "Is that... all right?"

"Frannie's gonna be thrilled," Ray says absently.

"Ah," Fraser shifts on his feet, tugging his earlobe. "I must admit, that was not quite the reaction I was hoping for."

"Oh, no, I--" Ray looks up at Fraser, standing there nervously, perfect and untouchable and--"I really like you, Fraser, it's just that you're pie."

"I'm what?" Fraser asks flatly.

"You know, Company Pie. That's great, that's the best stuff there is, it's just, I gotta readjust--I didn't think--my mum used to bake pies," Ray offers helplessly. "And the very best pies, the special, fancy pies that looked ready for a magazine cover, those were Company Pies, for when people were coming over. I wasn't allowed to have one, but they looked so good and smelled so good, and I knew they'd _taste_ amazing, so I, uh. I figured out a trick."

Fraser goes to sit beside Ray on the cardboard box, so Ray shifts over to make some room for him, and they sit that way, pressed together all along one side: shoulders, arms, thighs, knees, feet neatly next to each other.

"The trick with Company Pie," Ray explains, "Is not to think about it. Wanting it wasn't even an option, not even something that would occur to me, you get me? Because if I ignored the Company Pie completely, left it untouched and perfect like it was made to be, sometime later when company finally arrived, I'd get to have a little slice, just for me, and that--" Ray presses up a little more tightly against Fraser, pushing into him for a moment, looks up and meets his eyes. "That was greatness. That was more than I would have expected. It was everything."

Fraser presses back for just a moment, and the look in his eyes softens a little. "So I'm pie," he says consideringly.

"Oh, not just any pie! You are Company Pie, all the way."

"And what are you, Ray?"

"Me? I'm, you know, I'm okay, I'm... I'm like Cracker Jacks."

"Cracker Jacks, Ray?"

"Yeah, you know, popcorn with peanuts and caramel, kinda salty, comes in a box, you can get it in a vending machine, I mean, it's not bad, but it's mass produced, you get what I'm saying?"

"Ray," Fraser says.

"It's probably got all kinds of hydrogenated fructose and stuff in it, and--"

"Ray, I really don't know where this analogy is going, but I feel I must protest."

Ray blinks. "What? I mean, I dig Cracker Jacks, I eat Cracker Jacks--"

"Ray," Fraser turns to face him, turning awkwardly from his spot on the box. "I _love_ Cracker Jacks."

"You--you do?"

"Yes," Fraser says earnestly. "I do. I _live_ for Cracker Jacks. If I were stranded on a desert island with only one possible food source, it would be--"

"It would be pemmican," Ray points out.

"It would, without a single moment of doubt or hesitation, now and forever, be..." Fraser shrugs helplessly, spreading out his hands with a rueful grin. "It would be Cracker Jacks, Ray."

So Ray... well, Ray kisses him, and Fraser grabs onto Ray's shirt and melts right into the kiss like it's just what he's been waiting for for years.

Huey shows up later looking for paper clips, but they just let him knock.

::

 

**Epilogue**

"So I didn't realize," Frannie is saying animatedly, swinging her legs as she perches on the edge of Ray's seat, "because he's like Company Cannoli, you know, and I'm kinda like Pop Tarts--"

Ray takes a breath--

"No tart jokes, Ray," Frannie holds up her hand. "But the thing is, Curtis--okay, Curtis hates Pop-Tarts, he thinks they are the downfall of Western civilization, the food coloring alone--"

"Frannie!"

"But he doesn't think I'm Pop-Tarts, Ray, he thinks I'm cannoli, too! Company Cannoli," Frannie sighs. "Did I tell you he makes really amazing gnocchi?"

"Yeah, I think you mentioned," Ray deadpans.

"Like _clouds_ ," Frannie says, dreamily. "And it turned out, I thought he was making me dinner, but he was actually _making me dinner_ , and I didn't, you know, I hadn't considered--"

"I know, Frannie," Ray smiles at her. "Boy, do I know."

He perches on the desk next to her, swinging his legs in unison with hers, and looks across the bullpen as Fraser and Dief come in, with a cheerful wave and a tail wag, respectively. Grinning, Ray waves back at his maybe-kinda-boyfriend and his maybe-kinda-half-wolf, heading their way.

"But you know you ain't no Pop-Tart," Ray murmurs as he pulls her close for a one-armed hug. "No sister of mine is a toaster pastry, and that's final."

"Okay, Ray," Frannie rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Just for reference, in my head, this is Detective Delroy Curtis:  
> http://thecynicalowl.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/Anthony-MAckie.jpg  
> http://movies.dosthana.com/sites/default/files/image-gallery/Anthony%20Mackie-Stills.jpg


End file.
